


Fall of the Devil

by midnightrider



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: F/M, just something I started on a whim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-23 16:37:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15610467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightrider/pseuds/midnightrider
Summary: The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t planning on falling. He wasn’t planning on falling down onto the fire escape after a run in with a particularly well weaponized group of criminals, he wasn’t planning on falling asleep on the strange woman’s couch, and he wasn’t planning on falling in love.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little bit of writing that I started. I thought I'd share. Updates might be weird.

A figure stood at the end of a dark alleyway, street light shadows obscuring their body, cloaking it in darkness. The figure camouflaged in darkness watched intently, in the distance, a light flickered. A woman passed under it, the light flickered, and the woman stopped. The figure could hear her breath quicken, the sound of a speaker playing a child's voice, the clicking of a gun's safety being taken off, and the heavier breathing of a larger man.

  
"Mommy? Mommy? Where are you?" The child recording called, the speaker's buzzing inaudible to the woman. The figure moved closer to the entryway of the alley, still hidden by the dim streetlight. The man readied his gun as the woman came closer, the woman shouldered her bag, becoming more vulnerable by the second. Her hair was long, it swayed as she walks, and she smelled of retail and vanilla. The figure's muscles tightened as she walked closer into the alley. She looked into the darkness, unable to see the two contenders in their places.

  
"Hello? Are you okay? Come out, I won't hurt you." The woman called out softly, driven by the incessant need to help the more vulnerable one present. The man laughed under his breath, his breathing labored. The woman walked deeper into the alley, closer to the place where both contenders watched from the shadows. The larger man struck first. He moved quickly, grabbing the woman by her hair, pushing her to her knees, holding the gun to her head.

  
"You even squeak, and I'll put a bullet through your head, you hearin' me?" The woman nodded, tears in her eyes as the man ripped the bag from her arm, dislocating her shoulder in the process. She bit down on her lip to keep a scream from escaping, the assailant laughed. The figure chose this moment to make their move. The figure rushed at the assailant, still partly concealed by the dim light. A bullet pierced flesh, the assailant had fired into the figure's shoulder. The figure gritted their teeth, but continued forward, the woman moved herself to the edge as the fight followed. The man took this time to try and fire another bullet but the figure kicked the gun out of his hand, delivering another blow to the man's temple, and then to his chest. The threat vanished as soon as the man landed on the floor with a loud thud. The puddles from the rains of the previous nights splashed around him. The woman tried to muffle her breathing as the figure walked toward her, it extended its arms to show that it meant to help, the woman let out a sob.

  
"Please don't hurt me, I don't have any money, please." She sobbed out, helplessly and still in shock, "I have three kids, please." The figure knelt in front of her, breathing out softly. It took its gloves off.

  
"I promise I mean you no harm." It says, the woman is still sobbing, but complies, the figure sighs in relief, "This is going to hurt a little, I need to fix your shoulder." The woman nods, looking away. The figure snaps the shoulder back into place. It reaches over, bringing her purse back to her before helping her up.

  
"Thank you so much, you are an angel."

 

"Far from it, but be careful next time." The figure says quietly, its voice rough and low. The figure reenters the darkness, disappearing once more.

  
Elsewhere, Oliver was sitting in a cell, her eyes watching as the police officers ran forward and backward, a strange feeling of resignation building in her chest as the police officers ran in panic. It was a rather small police station, Hell's Kitchen's police station. Oliver heard the police officers talk. She picked up snippets of the conversation, "woman was assaulted", "the devil of hell's kitchen was there", "he's doing our job better than we have ever been able to". She chuckled at their tones. Oliver had personally never met the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and found the name cliché. It's not like hers was any better. She wasn't in here for her vigilante lifestyle though; she sighed in frustration. She was in here because she "assaulted" a cop. It was stupid and it wasn't an assault. The cop was trying to grab her ass, and Oliver hit his hand away. Simple. However, the cop was an egotistical man who thought he had the right to touch bodies that didn't belong to him. It was all a part of the job, it seemed.

  
"Hey, Peñaloza, times up. Go home kid." Officer Rollins called, tapping his baton on the jail cell bars. Oliver looked at him, standing up while squaring her shoulders. Her hair falling in wisps around her face. She felt the officer's pity, and it made her crumble inside. She had been here too many times since she turned 15, too many officers who didn't know how to keep their hands to themselves put her there, too many drunk men with greedy hands. She collected her things from Officer Rollins, rolling her shoulders as she made her way into the brisk morning air. She put her hood up, covering her face as she walked home. The smell of the rain still fresh in the air. The sun rising slowly over the brick buildings, she would forgo breakfast and sleep most likely as she made her way to her apartment. her shift started in two hours anyway. As she climbed the fire escape she felt it rattle, and then a loud thud. Her legs burned with exhaustion as she skipped the stairs in the direction of the noise, only to find a body clad in black, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

  
Panic rattled her bones, and she cursed every god she knew of and hoped to god that her downstairs neighbor wouldn't wake up soon. She opened her window, looking over to the figure. She could leave him there, pretend she never saw him. It would make her life easier to not associate with the only other vigilante in this part of the city. They seemed to be popping out of every crook and cranny lately. She punched the wall in frustration, cursing as a dent appeared where her fist made contact with the brick. She felt the fire escape creak again as the black-clad vigilante tried to stand. She panicked, delivering a blow to his temple with calculated strength, and she caught him as he fell. Oliver carried the Devil bridal style through her window, laying him on the floor. She watched him for a second, fear taking its place in her chest. She paced until she caught the smell of blood that she hadn't realized before.

She cursed to herself, heading toward the cupboard she knew so well. She brought the machine out, looking over at the body on her floor. All the bullet wounds that penetrated the simple black shirt he was wearing. They didn't seem to have hit any of the major arteries but due to the color of his skin, she wasn't exactly sure. She used her empathic ability to send lethargy toward him, her breathing remaining steady as she began to prepare the tools she needed for the blood transfusion. She found the vein in the crook of his arm that would work best, inserting the needle with practiced hands. She watched the saline and blood solution flow into his bloodstream. It wasn't long before the leftover bullets clattered onto the floor and the wounds began to heal as if they were never there. He was still sleeping, the cloud of lethargy she had put him under, unceasing.

Her brain whirled as she thought of her options, she could leave him back outside, healed and ready to go. He wouldn't remember anything. She could also stay with him until he healed completely, make sure that her blood didn't have a negative effect on him. Oliver decided to call off work, her conscience weighing on her everytime she thought of leaving him in the cold morning of New York. Digging through her bag, she found her phone, waiting as it continued to ring. Her eyes kept darting over to the man on her floor, the blood transfusion going easily so far.

  
"Hello?" A voice on the phone answered. Oliver quickly focused on the matter at hand, holding the phone closer. The voice on the other end, her manager, continued to wait for an answer.

  
"Ryan, it's Oli, I can't come in today. I'm taking care of a friend of mine." She winced as soon as those words left her mouth. She didn't even know the man on the floor. She snapped back to reality as soon as she heard her manager call her name again.

  
"Oli, I'll only let it slide because you haven't ever taken a day off, but please let me know in anticipation next time." She hears Ryan sigh on the other end in disappointment. "Your generation is so careless, I hope your friend's hangover is worth losing a day of pay." Oliver gritted her teeth as she heard the click of the call ending.

  
"Stupido, viejo idiota." She huffs angrily as she goes back to looking over her patient. She looks at him intently, the black wrap only covered his eyes and left the bottom half of his face for her curious eyes. His lips were parted as he breathed out evenly. Oliver made the cloud that she had put over him dissipate, allowing him to regain consciousness on his own terms. She realized the saline bag was emptying quickly and she decided one bag was enough. She removed the needle from his arm, lifting him onto her couch. He didn't stir and she decided to wait until he did. He wasn't dead, she was sure of it, his pulse beat in her ears over the drum of the city.

She thought about the fact that she missed 9 hours of pay today, that she had to go back there tomorrow. The pharmacy where she was working was owned by Ryan and it served the community of Hell's Kitchen with affordable medicine. She had trained to be a nurse but never actually got her certification. Not after the incident anyway. She had lost everything then and was only rebuilding herself now. A groan rose from the body on the couch and the blood in her body froze.


	2. Scripture

To him, it seemed like she was wreathed in white light, his senses overwhelmed by her presence. His body felt oddly heavy, as he tried to get up and fight his way out. His mind was swimming in fatigue and the alien sensation of having something rebuilding him. He was blind, yes, but he could still SEE her. He could hear the hitch of her breath as he stood uneasily on his feet, like a drunk with no control. He heard her move forward to catch him, smelled her perfume. His head lolling forward onto her shoulder. He wondered dazedly how she was this strong. The light citrus scent enveloping his senses, taking over his thoughts. He could pick out the grapefruit shampoo she used and the sandalwood incense she burned. Her hair was short, it tickled his nose as she leaned him back onto the couch. It was too much of her all at once. He stumbled to his feet once more. Daredevil tried to hold on to the wall only for it to dissolve into dust at his fingertips. He heard her say something, but it was as if he was underwater. He let her lead him back to the couch.

“Who are you? How did you find me? What did you do-...?” Before he fell back into unconsciousness.

Oliver stood in shock at his voice, it was slurred, and still very soft. She shook her head, ridding herself of the thought if his voice. She went looking for aspirin, and water. He’d undoubtedly have a headache when He resurfaced from his coma-like sleep. Her phone rang and she answered it, holding her phone to her ear with her shoulder.

“Si, Ma, estoy bien. Ya se, ya se, tengo una visita. No, no tengo novio,” She sighed in exasperation and the voice on the other end rose in volume. “No, Ama! No estoy enamorada! Como sabes que es un hombre?”

Oliver sighs, letting the woman talk. She held the phone away from her ear as she watched the Devil sleep soundly on her couch. Her eyes went to where his fingers had crushed through the brick. The after effects of her blood healing him. 

“Te llamo mas alrato. Cuidate. Te quiero.” She said, ending the call before there were any more questions.

She plucked an apple from the fruit bowl, taking a bite as she sat on the kitchen counter, absorbed in her thoughts. Her legs screamed in exhaustion and lack of blood flow after a while. She looked over at the sleeping man, deciding now was the best time to take care of herself.

She stepped into her bathroom, peeling off last nights clothes, turning on the water so that it was hot enough to fill the room with steam. The water made her sensitive skin feel more alive, the heat warring away the coldness of the cell she slept in. The shower was short, and she wiped the steam away from the mirror to look at her reflection. Two dark brown eyes looked back at her from the depths of a mirror, her dark brown hair already beginning to curl, a round nose, and full lips. She looked away from the mirror to tug on her shorts and t-shirt; her thoughts drifted back to the man on her couch. He hadn't been active for months, and then all of a sudden he had been back. He had come from nowhere, beginning to attack criminals as if he had never left. From what she saw of his face, he was handsome. She shook her head, reminding herself that being close to him was probably not the best idea.

A crash reminded her of the visitor on her couch. She rushed out of the bathroom to find him on shaky legs, again. She made her way to him slowly, speaking out to him again, as if she was speaking to a lost child.

“Hey, hey you’re safe... I’m not going to hurt you.” She says, speaking softly, quietly. The statement itself did not sound as good as she thought it would. She didn’t try to move closer, afraid of making him feel threatened, but he did. His movements startled her, as he lunged toward her, slamming her back into the brick of the wall. It stung as the brick scraped her skin, but it healed as soon as it appeared.

“What did you do to me? Who are you?” He asks roughly, his head was still swimming and her presence had all but worsened the flood in his brain. It overpowered him.

“I didn’t do anything! You were passed out on my fire escape and I couldn’t leave you out there to die.” She lied, right through her teeth.

He scoffed, tilting his head as he heard the shift in her heartbeat. The quickening of her pulse, the hitch in her breath. She was probably a good liar to those who couldn’t hear the flow of blood but he could. He wasn’t an idiot.

“Really? Because according to the holes in my shirt I should look like swiss cheese, but I’m don't. So what did you do?” He asks again, little more forceful, pushing her further into the wall. Oliver’s wounds opened again, and she decided that this was enough. She shoved her hands between his arms, as they held onto her shoulders, and shoved his arms down, before pushing him away, palms flat as they pushed against his chest. The devil staggered back, hitting his leg against the corner of her coffee table. Her stance became more defensive as she waited for him to make his move toward her again.

“Listen, I don’t know what your problem is but I’m not the enemy. Whoever pushed you onto my fire escape is,” She watches him, he's still swaying on his feet, her blood was still in his system, "If you want the truth I healed you; you were bleeding out and I knew I couldn’t call the ambulance or else you would be arrested.”

Oliver watches his demeanor shift as the words come out of her mouth. Her eyes analyzing every muscle twitch, every shift in his stance, and she waited for a reaction. His position softened as if he lost the fight within his thoughts.

“Thank you, sorry about inconveniencing you.” Daredevil tilted his head as he heard her heart hammering in her chest, the atmosphere felt tense as they both waited for the other to move. Oliver stepped aside, allowing him the route of escape through the window. A frown settling on her face.

”Don’t wake up my neighbor, I don’t need her calling the cops on me. I have enough problems with them as it is.” She said cooly, crossing her arms over her chest. Daredevil shook his head, sighing.

"No worries, I don't normally bring attention to myself on purpose." He replied, equally as coldly. The air seemed to thicken between them as they both looked towards to each other with curiosity and a little bit of disdain. He heard the hammering of her heart and he could tell her adrenaline was altering her stance.

As weird as it was, he could smell something off about her. All humans shared a slight undertone to their scent, but hers? It smelled... dangerous and alluring at the same time. He shook his head, prying open the window as he disappeared again, knowing which route to take home to remain unseen. The dawn chasing the devil back to his hole and keeping him there until his phone rung.

Matt made his way to the underbelly of the church, he stripped off the ruined clothing as he tried to remember where the bullets pierced flesh. He tried to find the scars with his fingertips. Sister Maggie came down from the nunnery, her eyes searching with worry as she tried to find new injuries on him. Her eyes were only graced with his confusion as he felt for the injuries that weren't there.

Back in Oliver's apartment, she slid onto the floor. Her resolve melting away in exhaustion and exasperation. She wondered if she'd ever meet the Devil again, wondering who he could possibly be, what human disguise he paraded under in the daytime in order to fool God. If only she knew that even while the sun was out, the devil was still damned.


End file.
